


Nowhere Safe

by TheLadyOfManyFandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Danger, Drama, F/M, Please Be careful, Romance, Violence, set in 4x02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 22:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyOfManyFandoms/pseuds/TheLadyOfManyFandoms
Summary: You and Sherlock had a complicated romance. As you think about the future you could have shared, you find yourself faced with an uninvited, unstable house guest - Eurus Holmes. She does not play friendly.





	Nowhere Safe

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: I’m alive! So, in honour of being a fellow fanfic author for the last 3 years (despite the inconsistencies), I present to you my latest Sherlock fic! True story, it’s taken the last four days to write up but I couldn’t resist <3 
> 
> Happy reading!

[](http://68.media.tumblr.com/81e6943ae19787e6bdb01418001deb67/tumblr_n2nzx4rdN71rzik3go1_250.gif)

* * *

You walked out of your bathroom and followed the warm steaming swirls into your room. You left behind a delicious trail of rose and sandalwood that would soon perfume the rest of your house. Mary always used to say that she loved to visit your apartment purely for the aroma that, she swore, “sank into the walls”. You chuckled as you remembered your friend’s voice but your smile dropped when you remembered recent events. Mary was gone and there was nothing that could be done about it. That woman was the best thing that happened to John Watson and you reminisced about the way that he gushed about her when he planned to propose. 

Proposals. That was the next place you mind went. You had seen your fair share of rings being exchanged and had been part of a couple too, the latest being with Sherlock Holmes. The first time that he had proposed to you was when he stood atop the St Bart’s Hospital and prepared to jump. Then, he had been dead to you for two years after that and you had slowly moved on to being the fiancée of another man. When Sherlock came waltzing back into your life, your emotions got the better of you, prompting you to break off the engagement. Then, your love-life had been turned on its head when the detective in question faked a proposal for a case with another woman. 

That’s when you swore off all future relationships with the man, not realising that he had carved out and created an engagement band just for you. As you fastened the fabric belt of your bathrobe, a sad sigh escaped your lips as you remembered the day that Sherlock was being sent away for murder. He spoke to you privately and asked you to hold onto the ring. 

Stepping across your bedroom, you opened the top drawer of the dressing table. You moved aside a spare hairbrush and pulled out the red velveteen box that he had given. It was still in the same condition as you had received it and, while you had promised John that you’d never wear it, a part of you wondered what it would be like. And, you’d be lying if you denied that a part of you wanted what John and Mary had. 

Taking a deep breath, you took a seat in front of you mirror and opened the box. Sitting on a royal purple cushion was a silver and white-diamond band that glittered under your bedroom lights. It was breathtaking to say the least. 

You pulled the ring from its home and, with a daring feat of courage, slipped it onto the ring finger of your left hand. The moment you pulled away and stretched your hand in front, your heart stopped. 

It was perfect - not with how it fit, but how it looked. A ring of Sherlock’s making suited you more than you cared to admit and it left you wondering how much he cared to have done this for you. How long had he wondered about the ring? How long did it take to make? How many nights did he stay awake trying to perfect it? 

Most importantly, how did he feel every time you walked into a room without it on your finger? 

“You know, there won’t be a future-Mrs Holmes if Sherlock’s out of the picture.” A woman’s voice said suddenly. You jolted up from your seat and looked around the room, ears perked trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. Where was the intruder speaking from? 

“Who’s there?” You called out, picking up your hairbrush as the most effective weapon in that moment. Keeping the noise to a minimum, you crept over to the doorway with your eyes constantly darting from corner to corner across every possibility where someone could lurk. Your gun holster was in the living room. If you could get to it, your task of arresting the intruder would be easier since almost everyone was terrified of you with a weapon in hand.

“Show yourself!” You demanded, your voice strong and confident. 

Nothing. There was no sound, no voice to follow. Just silence. You thought that you might have been hallucinating but shook that thought out of your head when you shuddered at how close the woman sounded. Deciding to bolt for the living room, you turned around and instantly found that an arm had wrapped around your neck from behind. 

“We should get acquainted if we’re to be family, don’t you think?” The woman asked in a dangerous hushed voice. 

You closed your eyes and wished that the intruder was just an intruder. But no amount of wishes to change the situation. Sherlock’s sister, Eurus, was your attacker which only complicated your position.

“Eurus, please. It doesn’t need to be like this.” You reasoned only to receive an amused chuckle from the woman.

“Oh, she’s sharp.” Eurus complemented and squeezed her arm so hard that you gasped for air. “Sherlock knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?” 

You pushed your elbow back and drove it into the side of Eurus’ stomach. The woman cried out but only fastened her grip over your throat. With no other option, you threw your head back and felt it connect with the woman's mouth. Eurus finally let go and you whirled around to roundhouse kick the Holmes’ secret sister in the legs, successfully knocking Eurus off balance and tumble backwards into her bedroom. 

With the intruder distracted, you bolted through the narrow hallway and into the living room where you headed for the door. Your hand fastened around the knob but when you moved to turn it, it was stuck. How? You tried again and then once more but Eurus must have done something to jam the locks of your apartment. Banging your fist against the wooden panel, you shouted to people who were in the residence at this hour. 

"Mrs Hudson! Sherlock!" you cried out. “Mrs-!" 

There was a noise downstairs and you pressed your ear against the door. Very faintly, you could hear a humming sound coming from below and your heart sank. You recognised Mrs Hudson's obnoxiously loud vacuum cleaner anywhere. It cancelled out all sound save for the music that the landlady played in her kitchen and, unfortunately for you, it was drowning your desperate voice too. Thinking quickly, you stomped on the floorboards hoping to catch Sherlock's attention below. 

"There's a good thick layer of insulation between your floor and Sherlock's ceiling." Eurus reminded, grinding your call for help to a stop. 

Stepping away from the door, you turned and saw Eurus' standing by your coffee table. Conveniently, the coffee table where your work gun was located. Eurus was too disheveled and too disturbed to have noticed, something that you were thankful for. 

Since leaving the apartment was a bust, the next best thing to do would be to negotiate. While you worked alongside you friend Detective Inspector Lestrade at Scotland Yard on many cases, you had come across several situations in which you had to barter your way out. If you could do it under extreme duress then, why not now?

"Eurus, I can help you." you said gently, holding your hand out to show that you didn't mean any harm. Very slowly, you took fragile steps forward and met the other woman halfway. Eurus looked at the gesture and nodded once, her lips curving into a smile by the corner of her mouth.

"You can help." She agreed, suddenly changing her expression from warm to cold and dark. "By not being alive." 

Eurus lunged at you, her arms stretched out and fingers hooked like claws. You ducked quickly and, as Eurus missed, grabbed the gun from its holster beneath your table. It wasn't loaded but, hopefully, it'd be enough. As you whipped back around to point the weapon, you didn't see Eurus advance on you and found the gun being ripped away from your hold. 

Eurus had the upper hand now. She held the object upside down and slammed the hilt of the gun against your head. Crying out in pain as your vision blurred, you saw stars at every turn. You heard the gun being thrown onto the ground and hazily reached for the walls of your living room. Your palms touched the cool surface of your wall mirror before your body was forced to turn around by rough hands. Eurus was relentless and fastened both hands around your throat again before she slammed your body into the mirror. 

Once - twice - three times and with a sharp _crack_ the mirror broke. A few loose pieces of glass fell to the floor and shattered against the floorboards while the remainder held intact … until you were moved.

Eurus pulled you off the wall and straight into the ground, proceeding to straddle you with a maniacal look in her eyes. The weight on top of you pressed your back into dull edges of glass. You thrashed about to shake Eurus off and, just when you almost knocked the woman to the side, you caught glint of silver. You had made a mistake. Without a second to spare, there was a sharp pain in your left thigh, forcing you to scream out loud. Eurus had swiped against your leg with a fragment of the mirror to paralyze. Her hands once again found your neck and proceeded to squeeze once more and you were left to wonder, how much more of this could you take?

Nails dug into the sides of you neck and started to peel your skin as Eurus applied more pressure. The room was too dark for you to make out how far away she was but the woman’s long black hair was long enough to be tickling your face and allowed for a slight approximation. Eurus screeched as she attempted to choke the life out of you and, for a second, you thought that this would be your end. 

You turned your head to the side, refusing to give the woman the satisfaction of being the last person you saw, and noticed a copper pipe that ran down your wall and straight into Sherlock’s living room. If you could get a message out to him through the pipes, it might be enough to scare Eurus away. Worst case scenario would be that Sherlock would walk into your apartment to find a body but, if you were being honest, at least Sherlock would be there. 

Eurus let out a second howling screech and brought you from your thoughts and back to the pain of your living room. Taking in a strangled intake of air, you reached out to the pipe and started to knock on it with Sherlock’s engagement ring. You hoped that Eurus would be too preoccupied in taking your life than pay attention to what you were actually doing. 

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._  
Tap.  
Tap … Tap … Tap. Tap.  
Tap. Tap … Tap. Tap. 

H-E-L-P. That’s what you spelt out. That’s what you screamed over and over again. 

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.  
Tap.  
Tap … Tap … Tap. Tap.  
Tap. Tap … Tap. Tap._

You tried again. Please be listening, you begged. Please, listen. 

_Tap. Tap … Tap … Ta-_ breathe! 

You couldn’t knock against the pipe anymore. The energy it took was energy that you didn’t have, breaths that you couldn’t afford to lose. Perhaps Mrs Hudson’s cleaning was more powerful than your own will to live. You wanted to fight against Eurus but the woman had her entire weight put on you, her perfume dizzying, and screams harrowing. 

You kept your head turned to the pipe where your last hope had faded and waited as dark spots start to appear in your field of vision - you didn’t have too long now. Arching your back against the wooden floorboards, your head tilted up as you let out a strangled sob mixed with a gasp in a desperate bid to take in what air you could as your body cried out. Eurus screamed as her hands squeezed harder than before and, it would have hurt, but you went numb a while back. 

_Bang!_ “(Y/n?)?” _Bang! Bang!_ “(Y/n), are you in there?!”

You felt Eurus freeze when she heard the voice and went deadly silent. Sherlock banged his fist over the door again and tried the doorknob to no avail. As you listened to him, Eurus bent low and hummed an eerie tune into your ear before whispering a promise. 

"You'll see me again." The pressure on your throat lifted and Eurus disappeared. 

You laid there for a few seconds, catching what breath that was stolen until your muscles starting aching. Your thigh throbbed and you took in a deep breath before doing a crunch that shouldn’t have been as agonising as it was. You wanted to take a look at how bad the injury was but found yourself falling backwards and hitting the floorboards with enough force to knock the wind out of your lungs. 

It should have been easier to move now but you felt your whole body go stiff as if your limbs were completely disjointed from your body. Now was not a good time for shock-paralysis, particularly because your wound was bleeding out into your bathrobe. 

_CRASH!_

The door to your apartment flew open as Sherlock forced his way inside. He saw you laying still on the ground and a thousand horrible thoughts came to mind. When Sherlock came into frame, you thought your heart would leap out of your chest. His disheveled black curls moving closer to your face and ocean blue pools boring into your own. 

"(Y/n)?" He said softly. "It's alright, I'm here." His voice assuring you that it was all going to be fine now. 

Sherlock brushed your hair out of your face and his eyes found themselves fixed on the purple bruises that started to swell and colour. The marks were consistent with that of strangulation. The shape, however, indicated a woman's hold. 

"Sherlock." you spoke, your voice croaky and dry, and his blue eyes were drawn to you once more. "I-I can't move."

Sherlock looked over your body and saw no indication of bone breakage. Fractures, yes. But no broken bones. Your feeling of being unable to move must have been due to a kind of shock that settled in. 

"Of course, you can. Here," Sherlock wrapped your hands around his neck, feeling the scrape of the engagement ring against his skin, and slid his hands beneath your back. In one quick movement, he lifted you up and waited until you could feel a sensation in your legs.

It took a few tries where your legs turned to jelly but with delicate encouragement from Sherlock, your feet finally found their bearing and your heels met the ground, holding steady. Sherlock kept one hand wrapped around your waist just in case, while the other cupped your face gingerly. 

"I heard your message." He explained. "What happened? Who did this to you?" 

You sighed and shook your head. You didn't know how to explain all that happened. It was your sister, you wanted to say but your mind quickly imagined Mycroft last Christmas. _"Sherlock doesn't remember."_ He said. _"We don't know what the effect could be on his mind."_

"Eurus." you replied softly. Perhaps a name wouldn't be so bad, after all, Mycroft was overdue with an explanation to his brother and this could speed that conversation along. Sherlock sighed and gently pulled you flush against his chest. 

"She must have come here after shooting John." He realised, eyes scanning the room for possible clues. Sherlock felt your erratic breathing calm down to match his own and felt your lips move against his shirt to ask a question. 

"What?" you moved your head off of Sherlock and stared at him with wide eyes. "John was shot?" 

"With a tranquiliser. It appears that I have a sister who wants me dead. Well, that's what she told John before darting him." 

How much about his sister did he know? You wondered. Sherlock watched your brows crease and kissed your forehead. 

"She's gone now." He reassured, mistaking your worry for him as worry for your own safety. Sherlock then took your hand and helped you turn towards the door. 

"I need to get you downstairs. Can you walk?" 

You took a step forward and a spike of pain shot up the back of your leg. Sherlock felt your nails dig into his hand and stopped moving. He resolved to carry you down but you moved against him and took another step. 

"I'll manage." you told him. You weren't mad at Sherlock. How could you be, he saved your life. But, you had already been vulnerable enough that night. You didn’t want to think that that’s all you were in the face of danger. 

You placed your hand on the smooth finish of the staircase railing outside your door and let it guide you down to the first level. Sherlock’s flat door was wide open and your stomach flipped at the thought of Eurus waiting inside for you both. 

“(Y/n)?” Sherlock said softly, resting his palm on the small of your back. As expected, you turned to look at him and shook your head. 

“It’s nothing.” you lied. There really wasn’t any point to voicing your concerns about where you were to stay. If Eurus could get into your apartment at the top of 221 Baker Street, then she could go anywhere. Nowhere was safe.


End file.
